Tits and Ask: Is She Cheating?

DEAR KEN & ARIEL: I think my girlfriend may be cheating on me. We’ve been dating for a couple of months. The sex came to a halt for about three weeks. She had excuses: stress, sour stomach, etc. She tells me that she’s tired of hearing about it and when we do have sex she says she doesn’t want me to touch her chest and turns her head when I try to kiss her. The last two weekends there has been time where I didn’t hear from her for a while and her phone was shut off. She had excuses for all of this though (dead battery, no service, etc). On top of that, she has two male friends in her life who buy her things, loan her a car when hers is broke down, give her Easter gifts, flowers (daisies) and stuff like that. What do you think?

KEN SAYS: You think she may be cheating on you? Dude, that’s like Jackie Kennedy turning to the driver of JFK’s motorcade car and saying, “I think something might be wrong with the President.” Or looking at Shaquille O’Neal and surmising that, yeah, this guy could probably handle the large fries. But I digress. Let me use an example from my own sordid past to illustrate.

Because, like most strapping young men, I think about sex pretty much every waking moment of the day, I sometimes find myself projecting my obsessions on to the women I date. Whenever they’re out of my sight, I assume that they’re in some other dude’s apartment, modeling their fishnets, pouting suggestively as they loosen a few blouse buttons, and explaining how much better life has been since they switched to crotchless undergarments.

Likewise, whenever they’d give me a “not in the mood” story, my mind would start buzzing with outlandish scenarios involving Johnny Depp, a football team, twenty gallons of tequila and a fully-loaded caulking gun. Yet, as real as these things seemed to me [particularly the whole caulking gun thing], they were, quite simply, figments of my own ribald imagination. I never once thought to ask these women what was really bringing them down, be it my attitude, my taste in clothing, or just an overwhelming desire to be fucking someone who wasn’t me. That said, don’t let the ladies fool ya… they love screwing as much as we do. Possibly more, as they’re equipped to go for hours whereas guys are… well, orgasms are like turkey on Thanksgiving. They release that chemical that pats us on the back and says, “Good one, Tiger. Now, let’s have a nap!” If she’s not fucking you, there’s a good chance it’s because she’s getting her skirts martinized somewhere else. Just pray god it’s not someone named “Doug.” Nobody wants to lose a girl to a guy named Doug. Jesus.

As a paranoid fellow by trade, I think you have ample reason to be concerned. A real red flag is the “turning her head when you try to kiss her” thing, a move that traditionally stands as shorthand for a knee to the balls. But before you start paying guys named Clive and Rocco to trail your girl around town, ask her straight up what the deal is. You may not like what she has to say, but it will spare you the dehumanizing, pluck-each-hair-out-of-your-nutsack torment that traditionally accompanies suspicion.

ARIEL SAYS: Oh dear, sweetness. You so desperately want me to make you feel better, to give you the answer you so want to believe, and yet you need only read what you wrote a couple of times to realize you already know the answer yourself. Hey, don’t feel bad; we all do it. I’ll turn to my guy and say, “Does my ass looks fat? I know I’ve been eating frosting and Devil Dogs for 3 weeks, I’ve split two pairs of jeans, and every time I back out of the fridge I hear beeping noises. But, maybe the mirror is just warped. What do you think?” And my dude, being the adorable man that he is, gives me the answer I so want to believe: “Nah, baby, you look great.” Then he quickly averts his eyes and runs out of the room.

So back to your problem. I ain’t no fortune teller and I ain’t no mind reader (although I do have the uncanny ability of detecting free samples at the supermarket within 6 seconds) but somethin’ fishy is goin’ on. I presume you’re both young, horny, consenting adults with no history of sexual dysfunction. That means you should be bonking like rabbits, five times a day, for the first three months. Then, after the “honeymoon period” is over, you’re still attracted to each other but would rather watch reruns of Charles in Charge than screw, at least on week nights. You’ve only been dating “a couple of months,” so the energizer bunny thang should still be going strong. Now I’m not saying you need to freak out on her, but y’all need to sit down and find out what the hell is going on.

Be gentle, be sensitive, ask her what’s on her mind and tell her you just want to make her happy, in EVERY way. Explain in a soothing voice how orgasms can actually stimulate the release of serotonin, a friggin’ awesome chemical that can help reduce stress. Turn on Al Green. Turn off Halo. If that fails, she won’t tell you what’s going on, she keeps turning off her cell phone, then it’s time to do your own disappearing act. One more thing: do YOU buy her stuff, loan her your car, give her gifts and daisies? If not, that may be why she’s keeping mixed company.

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1 Comment

Hi Ken!
If that’s what how she reacted then there maybe a problem. It might be that something is bothering her. It could really be that she is cheating. I think it would be best if the two of you will discuss about the matter.